Small Potatoes
by Nevillefan
Summary: Four become unlikely friends. One meets eight. One becomes the Dark Lord's favourite. One dies, but only if she goes alone. One wants to die. Three want the truth but can't have it. One knows the truth already. One can see past the lies. Two meet seven others.
1. One Potato

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything Harry Potter related. This is meant to be 100% parody of HP fanfiction clichés and not to be taken seriously. Books six and seven never happened and this story takes place in Harry's seventh year. The first part is not badly written, it's goofy on purpose.

* * *

 **Small Potatoes**

One Potato

 _A true Mary Sue always lives her life with flair._

She'd always known she was slightly different from everybody else…I mean, it's just not normal for things to levitate when you're feeling upset, or to have your neighbor suddenly sprout boils all over his face if he was teasing you. And now, finally at the age of seventeen, she'd finally found out what was really so odd about her.

It was a normal afternoon at the close of August and Keirana Elizabeth Marian Susan Richardson, who everyone simply called Keira (or to her best friends, just Key), laid on her large bed. Her long, silky chestnut coloured hair fell over her milk chocolate eyes as she laid sprawled out on her stomach with a magazine in her hands, though the words upon the pages were not on her mind. She had been daydreaming about a chocolate chip cookie that was downstairs with her name on it when an owl (or at least what she could only assume to be an owl from watching the Discovery Channel, though she'd never seen one up close before) came flying into her bedroom window and dropped an envelope right on top of her head—also leaving a nice little birdie mess on the violet carpet on its way back out the window.

Curious, Keira looked at the emerald green writing on the front of the yellowish envelope that read:

 _Miss Keira Richardson_

 _the largest bedroom_

 _1435 Elm St._

 _Mayfield, VA 23528, USA_

Keira flipped the envelope back to front, looking for some sort of return address but found none. "The largest bedroom," she read aloud to herself as she wondered how the sender could possibly have known she was in her bedroom at that very moment—though the odd fact that an owl had been the one to deliver this message in the first place seemed completely plausible when in comparison to this next development. Eager to see the contents of this creepy envelope, she hastily ripped open the top and pulled out a yellowish sheet of paper. Written in the same emerald green ink as the envelope was her destiny.

 _Dear Miss Richardson,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

Keira stared wide-eyed at the yellowish paper in her hand. Here in her hands, in the largest bedroom of the house, was an explanation for the last seventeen years of strange occurrences and feeling out of place in her world.

"MOM!" Keira cried as she gracefully flung herself through the bedroom doorway and down the stairs to the kitchen, all the while screaming at the top of her lungs for her mother.

"What is the matter with you, Keira? We use our indoor voices in this house," said her smiling mother, who was currently at the sink, happily washing a huge load of dirty dishes created by the morning's regularly large breakfast.

Keira looked at her mother with excited eyes, but did take a moment to admire the black and white polka-dotted dress her mother was wearing, complemented by black pump shoes and a pearly white necklace. "Mom! An owl dropped this letter for me and it says I'm going to go to a magic school! Oh, and an owl made a nasty mess on my carpet that you need to clean up."

Her mother, still smiling her dazzling, toothy white smile, removed the yellow rubber dish gloves that covered her delicate hands and took the letter from her daughter to read it for herself. Mrs. Richardson's glittering smile drooped only slightly as she read, obviously not reacting the way Keira had hoped she would. "Hogwarts?" she said still avidly staring at the parchment in her hands. "I don't know, dear—"

 _Rappa-tap-tapp_ , there came a sharp knocking at the front door, successfully startling both women.

"Now who could that be?" Mrs. Richardson thought aloud as she made her way through the dining room, the secondary kitchen, passed the conservatory (it's a rather large house), across the lavish sitting room, and into the foyer, stopped at the hall mirror to needlessly smooth out her perfectly placed hair and to check her bright red lipstick.

Keira took the liberty of opening the door herself, ignoring her usually perfect manners by not waiting for her mother. There, standing on the front stoop, was the strangest man Keira had ever laid eyes on. He was wearing long purple robes and a pointy hat, long white hair that nearly youched the ground, a white beard that matched his hair to length, and a pair of spectacles that sat upon a long, crooked nose. Keira thought he looked like Merlin from Disney's _The Sword in the Stone_ …or maybe like Gandalf from those _Lord of the Rings_ movies…

The old man smiled at their stunned greeting. "Good afternoon, ladies," he said in a thick British accent and bowed slightly. "My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If I am not mistaken, you've already received a letter from our school?"

"Yes, Sir, you are correct," Mrs. Richardson said, holding the letter with her faultless, manicured fingers. "Not one minute ago, in fact."

The old professor chuckled merrily at her answer, "Right on time, then."

"Would you like to come in, Professor," Mrs. Richardson asked politely and waved a hand invitingly. "May I get you some coffee or tea?"

"My lady, that would be lovely," his warm smile crinkled the corners of his bright blue eyes. "Some tea would be nice." Mrs. Richardson dazzled the elderly man with her blinding smile and turned toward the kitchen to make the tea.

Remembering her normally pleasant manners, Keira escorted the professor to the generously furnished sitting room.

"Keira," the professor began, already on a first name basis, "I'm sure you have many questions but I can assure you they will all be answered in due course." Keira nodded her head eagerly as the headmaster continued, "You have been specially selected to attend Hogwarts this year. It is a great privilege that we have extended this invitation to you and it is not to be taken lightly. You are a powerful witch, Keira. You are descended from the Clan MacLeod of the Scottish Highlands—"

Keira cut him off with an unimpressed laugh, "Okay, yeah, you almost had me there for a second. Let me guess. I'm immortal and the Quickening is drawing me to fight for the fabled 'Prize.' I saw that movie."

Dumbledore stared at her, the twinkle in his eyes having been replaced with a touch of annoyance, "No. I was going to say that your ancestors on your mother's side are from Scotland, therefore giving you a perfectly logical reason why you are destined to attend Hogwarts, which is located in Scotland."

"Not a very good reason," Keira said flatly.

Dumbledore shrugged his fragile shoulders, "It was the best I could do. That necklace you are now wearing," he pointed a long index finger at a spot just below her chin, "is the symbol of your great power."

Keira reached a hand to the emerald crystal that hung on a golden choker chain and remembered how the necklace had come into her life. "I just got this at the mall a week ago."

"Do you remember that creepy hag that came out of nowhere and convinced you to buy it?"

"That was my Aunt Susie," Keira said in an irritated tone. "She works at the department store jewelry counter."

"That's not the point, Keira," Dumbledore waved off his previous insult on her family unit. "The Green Dragon, as your necklace was once called, has found you at last and now it is time to begin your training as a witch."

Keira still had a few questions, "But, Professor, if I'm such a powerful witch why wasn't I contacted before? And why do I have to go to Hogwarts? Is that the only magic school?"

Dumbledore smiled weakly as he thought for a plausible answer, "We had to wait until you were ready to handle such news… and no, Hogwarts is not the only school, but for reasons that will make sense to you later, you must attend the same school as Harry Potter."

It was then that Mrs. Richardson returned carrying a tray of tea and chicken salad sandwiches cut into cute little triangles. "Professor Dumbledore, I was reading over that letter again and saw the due date was the end of July. I am afraid we didn't receive the letter in time. It's already the end of August."

"We are well aware of that, Mrs. Richardson. Exceptions are being made for Keira's attendance as we speak. We have already made several exceptions for certain students this year; I'm sure Professor McGonagall will not mind one more."

"Keira, sweetie," Mrs. Richardson said as she carefully held her china teacup in her hands, "I've forgotten the sugar. Would you please retrieve it from the kitchen?"

"But Mom—" Keira's whine was cut off by her mother insisting on the pressing need for confectionary sweetness.

"Professor Dumbledore," Mrs. Richardson said pensively when Keira had left to travel the one mile-long trek through the house to the kitchen, "I have always known she was different from the rest of us but I've tried to give her the most normal life possible. I really think it would be for the best to decline your invitation."

"My dear woman," Dumbledore said seriously and sat his teacup on the saucer in his hand, "you have done what you thought was best to keep her safe but I am sure you know all too well she cannot be hidden forever."

Mrs. Richardson's perfectly poised face twisted into horrific shock, the first expression of true emotion since this strange man had arrived, and she felt the teacup involuntarily slip from her hands and bounce across the white carpet, "Then you know?!"

Eyeing the white carpeting now decorated with a splattered blotch of light brown liquid, Dumbledore said solemnly, "She has been known of for some time now." Mrs. Richardson's shaking hands flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp and a declaration of disbelief and her normally sparkling blue eyes were wide with shock. Carefully choosing his words, Dumbledore continued slowly and deliberately, "Circumstances have changed, Mrs. Richardson. He _is_ back and throwing away the school's invitation letter every year will no longer suffice in keeping her safe. He _will_ find her. I do believe that Hogwarts truly is the best place your daughter could be in this time of debauchery."

"You mean, you knew?" They both turned sharply to see Keira standing in the doorway of the living room, the sugar having never been retrieved. Her normally placid face twisted in frustration, she quickly stepped into the room, "All this time, you knew there was something different about me?"

"Keira, sweetie," Mrs. Richardson put a hand to her daughter's shoulder but she was quickly thrown off.

Keira shook her head, her flowing hair swishing with her movements. "You deliberately hid this from me? Throwing away my letters?"

She took a step back from her mother's comforting arms as a light bulb in the chandelier above them shattered violently, spraying soft white glass over the ruined carpet. Mrs. Richardson flinched at the small explosion and what was once a part of the filament landed in her pristine hair.

"All this time I could have been learning magic," Keira continued, growing angrier with her mother than she had ever been. Even more angry than when she wouldn't allow Keira to stay out past curfew last night on her date with Kevin Conley, the hottest boy at her school.

"Keira, sweetie," her mother desperately pled with her, "there are things you don't understand. After your father died," she choked on a sudden sob as her eyes glazed over with tears, "I swore there would never be magic in this house again."

"My father?"

"Their world is—it's _dangerous_!" her mother cried desperately.

"What does my father have to do with this?" Keira spat as her mother collapsed into a sobbing, pathetic heap in an overstuffed chair.

Mrs. Richardson managed to breathe in a rattled bit of air, "I won't let _magic_ hurt you too," reinforcing the word 'magic' with a tone of absolute revulsion.

What remained of the chandelier above their heads shattered with the force of Keira's growing anger, showering them with sparks of electricity and broken crystal. "Did you really think you could hide this from me, Mom? All this time you knew I didn't fit in here and you knew exactly why. Why would you do this to me?"

Refusing to meet her daughter's dark gaze, Mrs. Richardson dabbed at her eyes with a lacy white kerchief from her dress pocket, smearing it with black from her smudged makeup. "I had to," she sniffled and watched warily above her as the once dazzling chandelier now randomly shot off white-hot sparks from its empty sockets, "I couldn't let them take you away."

"Well I'm going now, Mom," Keira stated firmly, shaking her head in resentment, "I'm going to Hogwarts. You're not stopping me anymore."

* * *

 _Mary Sues make grand entrances._

Neville Longbottom tapped the back of his head against the brick wall as he waited for his grandmother. It had been at least ten minutes since he had passed through the barrier that connected the muggle world of King's Cross Station to the wizarding world of platform nine and three quarters and the Hogwarts Express. He now stood against a nearby wall twiddling his fingers while growing a bit impatient for her to join him.

It was September first, the day he was to climb aboard the Hogwarts Express and begin the adventure of his seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. However, it was becoming increasingly questionable as to whether or not he would actually attend this year, seeing as he was unable to board the train because his grandmother was nowhere in sight.

They were already running late and Neville thought of simply dragging his things to the train without waiting for his grandmother…to save time. However, the thought of her feverishly running around the platform in her vulgar hat, worrying that he'd somehow been helplessly lost amongst the crowd at the tender age of seventeen, climbing aboard the train to spy in every compartment to find him—well, the mere thought of this happening was enough to keep him patiently waiting for her by the wall.

So instead, Neville stood twiddling his fingers and entertained himself by watching the many parents and students milling around the train platform. Students boarded the grand Hogwarts Express, mothers stood teary eyed with damp kerchiefs in hand, friends spotted friends and chatted loudly among themselves. At one point Neville even thought he'd seen one of the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan, but just as fast as they'd been spotted they disappeared into the crowd.

Inspection of his wristwatch told Neville he had four minutes to board the train or be left behind but still his grandmother had not come through the barrier. The swarm of people was now quickly dissipating as the students said their final goodbyes and parents waved their soggy kerchiefs at their children as if they'd never see them again. The minute hand on the large wall clock clicked again, three minutes.

The conductor let loose the high-pitched squeal of the train's polished gold whistle, announcing the approaching intention to depart from London and all those still standing on the platform. Neville's twiddling fingers had now been replaced by a nervous fidgeting. Something must be wrong for her to be gone for so long. It was then that worry for his gran, anxiety, and desperation took over and Neville decided to take action. He left his trunk where it sat waiting and, fighting against the current of people, made for the magical brick barrier.

Neville had always hated this part. Having to run into the magical brick wall between platforms nine and ten had been proven quite a painful task on more than one occasion and he was sure this would be no exception. Stepping back to take his running start, he tried his best to believe he could pass though.

Without another moment's hesitation, Neville began a fast pace straight toward the wall and quickly picked up speed as he set off in a cautious run. The wall was coming closer, the bricks looking more and more solid with every stride. He closed his eyes in attempt to block out the idea of running straight into a unyielding brick wall and concentrate more on the idea of passing through successfully and unharmed. Though his eyes were closed, Neville could tell he was only a few steps away from the magical barrier that would bring him to the muggle side of King's Cross Station. He clenched his teeth together and shut his eyes as tight as they would go and took one last running stride before he would make contact with a solid brick wall.

However, it wasn't the brick wall that brought his journey to a painful halt, it had been a human. Another human who had, at that very moment, decided to cross the barrier from the other side in attempt to reach the magical side of the train station. Neville had only caught a glimpse of his victim when she cried out in surprise as she was sent in reverse into the magical brick wall barrier she had just crossed and disappeared back into the muggle world.

He now sat on the cold cement with a rather sore backside directly facing the brick wall in which he had unsuccessfully tried to pass through and watched to see if she would attempt to cross again. A few seconds later, a mass of curly, jet-black ringlets and a pale, thin face cautiously poked itself through the barrier. Dark eyes searched around for signs of her attacker and before Neville could react to her appearance, she had disappeared once again into the brick wall. She soon returned—back end first emerging from behind the brick wall followed closely by a head, arms and legs, and a trunk that she was attempting to pull along. With her rather small frame, she was straining to use all the weight she possessed to force the trunk to move against the cement.

Not really knowing what to do, Neville hastily stood to make amends for his assault. He stretched out a hand to her shoulder to get her attention, "Are you all right?"

Breathing heavily, she turned up her dark eyes to him but didn't cease her efforts to pull the heavy trunk toward the train. "I'm fine," she answered simply and returned her attentions to moving the large trunk.

"At least let me help you with that—" he moved to grab the other leather strap handle of the trunk but she but she hastily cut him off.

"No thanks, I can get it."

Neville, though not really understanding, backed off and obeyed her request. He tried repeatedly to issue an apology but she half-heartedly waved it off as an accident and she obviously didn't mind being plowed over by somebody three times her size. "Why didn't you get a trolley for your things?" he indicated her absurd attempt to pull the heavy trunk.

The girl snorted a bit of laughter, "They were all out," and nodded her head toward a rather large collection of empty trollies sitting along a far wall. "It seems that every September first over half of the station's carts just disappear for a few hours and nobody can ever find them…but they always end up returning eventually. The guy in the uniform told me if I waited about an hour I'd be able to get one, but until then I was out of luck. Thought by then I'd be a little late and decided to just take care of it myself."

He understood what she meant and felt his conscience tug at him. He looked over to his own Hogwarts trunk sitting neatly on a trolley awaiting his return while this girl who was only a third his size was physically hauling her own trunk and refusing help. The large clock on the wall clicked again, one minute. When he looked back to the girl, she was already a good distance from him and making good time toward the front of the train.

His intentions to follow and assist whether she liked it or not were cut short when he heard his grandmother finally calling out his name in a noisy, familiar voice. As usual, in her vulture-topped hat and horrible green cloak, she bustled over to him and took him by the elbow to where his trunk stood waiting.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, Neville Longbottom," she said in her loud, clear voice. "I crossed the barrier ages ago and couldn't find you. I looked everywhere on the platform, on the train—nobody had seen you, I was so worried."

Neville heaved a great sigh and didn't bother to argue the fact that he'd been standing right near the barrier the entire time. Instead, he did as he was told and began loading his trunk onto the train. The conductor let loose the piercing train whistle a final time before a large cloud of steam hissed from the pistons and Neville jumped onto the train just as it began moving, leaving all of London behind in a puff of steam. His grandmother stood on the platform waving a slightly moist kerchief at him as he left for Hogwarts. Finally.

After what seemed like hours of passing full compartment after full compartment, Neville dropped his over-stuffed trunk in the middle of the narrow hallway and sat on it, his head landing with a light thump in his hands. This was his punishment for being late, it had to be. In the middle of the very narrow hallway, he sat breathing heavily and thought about the girl he'd literally run into at the station. He hadn't seen which train car she'd boarded and after not finding her in any of the full compartments he'd just passed, he began to doubt his reality of actually having "met" her. But now was not the time to worry about her; he'd like to be able to find Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny… heck, even Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas would have been good company if their compartments hadn't been filled already.

Taking a final deep breath, Neville stood and, though expecting to see another full compartment next to him, chanced a glance through the window to spy inside. Not believing his luck, inside were only Harry on one side and Luna on the opposite side by the window. He slid open the door just enough to stick his head inward.

"Sorry, all full…seat's already taken," Harry said uninterested and didn't look up from the book he was reading.

"Oh—right, sorry," Neville said in an overly cheerful voice, though he felt a little put off by Harry's sour reply.

Harry recognized Neville's voice and looked up from his book, "Oi! Sorry 'bout that mate. C'mon in, we saved you a spot." Harry quickly stood up, pulled him the rest of the way inside, and helped to get his trunk in the luggage rack. "We were beginning to wonder if we'd see you."

"Thanks, Gran and I were running late. Who else are you expecting?"

"Just Ron and Hermione," Harry answered. "Ginny's off with her friends somewhere but we didn't want the entire compartment packed full."

He took the open seat beside Luna, "Where's Ron and Hermione anyway?"

"Prefect duties," Luna supplied, not bothering to remove her nose from her book.

"They're a couple now, so beware, and they aren't being very discrete about it either," Harry added with an impish grin. "You know they're using 'prefect duties' as a reason to sneak off everywhere together. It's disgusting."

Luna let out a laugh from nowhere as if this was the funniest thing she had ever heard. Between a giggling pause she managed to slip in, "Prefect duties!" Slowly her laughter died down and she began wiping tears from her eyes with a blue handkerchief, then returning to her book.

"Hermione and Ron, huh," Neville said thoughtfully, though still eyed Luna carefully for signs of more laughter. "For some reason I always thought it would be Hermione—"

"Hermione and _me_ ," Harry finished for him with an irritated sigh. "I wish people would stop saying that. That's how rumors get started."

A croak came from somewhere within Neville's robes. Neville, having almost forgotten he had a toad in his pocket, drew Trevor out into the daylight. Perched atop Neville's hand, Trevor croaked his distaste for having been forgotten and gave Neville a very unhappy toadish frown. Eventually, the conversation drew away from gossiping about the newest Hogwarts couple and turned to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that nobody seemed to know anything about and their classes.

They heard a sharp rap at their compartment door and all three heads turned to see a girl's head poked inside. "Do guys mind if I join you? Everywhere else seems to be full." Her hair fell past her shoulders in thick, dark brunette ringlet curls that framed her thin, pale face and dark eyes.

Luna returned to her book, uninterested. Neville, however, couldn't take his eyes off the girl he'd once thought to be a mere figment of his imagination.

"Of course," Harry answered, watching Neville and his odd expression, then looked back at the girl and smiled invitingly.

The girl gave a very toothy smile in response, "Thanks. Thought I'd never find a spot." She struggled to pull her trunk inside but Harry stood to take it from her. "Knew I should have gotten here earlier but my friends and I got lost on the subway…and then I lost my friends _completely_ and ended up somewhere in downtown London."

"You're American then?" Neville commented as he put Trevor on the seat beside him and helped Harry with the trunk. He had noticed her accent while talking to her on the platform but hadn't had a chance to ask her about it.

"Yeah…Thanks guys," she added as they took the trunk from her hands.

Neville felt her eyes watching him but tried to ignore it as they hoisted the trunk over their heads and onto the luggage rack. He'd felt bad enough about plainly tackling her at the station but was almost hoping she wouldn't recognize him—which she obviously did.

"So what brings you to Hogwarts?" Harry asked in attempt to find out more about their new visitor.

"My uncle got a job out here and I had to move too—I'm Valore by the way. Valore Bloom," she held out a hand to Harry, searching his green eyes.

He accepted her hand, continuing to stare straight back at her, "Harry Potter."

"Yeah, I know," she nodded, "you have your mom's eyes."

* * *

A/N: Congratulations! You made it to the end of the first chapter!

You made it this far so that means:

1) You like parodies.

2) You're a glutton for epic punishment.

3) You actually read disclaimers and don't run away at the first sign of bad writing. What's wrong with you?

4) There was a disclaimer warning you of impending bad writing? You loved it anyway? You're a trooper!

Whatever the reason, you're still here and so am I and that's not half bad. Reviews are well liked around here; feel free to leave one. Thanks!


	2. Two Potato

Two Potato

 _Mary Sues will always have a secret._

Harry found himself dumbfounded at her statement of recognizing him by his eyes and not by his infamous scar alone. When most people shamelessly identified him by the unique lightening-shaped scar in the middle of his forehead, she didn't seem to have noticed it was there at all. And it was only semi-common knowledge among a small circle of people that he had his mother's eyes. He hadn't thought this information would have traveled abroad to a complete stranger.

With eyes so dark in colour that Harry could barely make out the outline of her pupils, she studied him a second more before turning back to secure her trunk to the rack above her head, leaving him to look completely ridiculous as his mouth gaped open and shut like a fish drowning in open air.

Satisfied with her trunk's security in the overhead luggage rack, Valore ignored Harry by sitting down beside Neville and turning her attentions to introducing herself to Luna who smiled her mystical smile from over top her thick book. Neville, on the other hand, had sat back down in his seat and immediately found a speck of dust on his trousers remarkably interesting, a futile attempt at disappearing. But despite his insistence that he was invisible, Neville could sense Valore's dark eyes fall upon him. Feeling as uncomfortable as possible, he decided he might as well introduce himself or risk having her burn a hole straight into him. He quickly glanced over and confirmed that she was, in fact, studying him.

"You," she said slowly, "you look awfully familiar."

Neville nodded his head hesitantly, "We met on the platform earlier." _I knocked you over and you ran off_ , is what he did not add.

After a short pause she blurted out, "You're not related to the Longbottoms, are you?"

He adjusted his jumper sleeves awkwardly and returned to inspecting his linty clothing. He nodded, "Neville." He wished she wouldn't look at him that way—it was unnerving and she was beginning to remind him of Luna.

"Excuse me," said Harry trying to regain her attention, "but do we know you?"

She tore her eyes off Neville and again looked at Harry. "No, you don't," she said simply. "But I have something you might be interested in." She shifted in her seat and pulled a flattened roll of parchment from the back pocket of her jeans, tapped it lightly with her wand and passed it to Harry. Casually ignoring both boys' confused faces, Valore leaned past Neville and struck up a conversation with Luna who was apparently reading up on Caspian Snarfblacks.

 _I'm glad I happened to find you already, Harry. I don't mean to draw attention to myself but I need to talk to you. I don't want to say things in front of unknown people. I know about the Order but can't recall my uncle mentioning a Luna Lovegood. I assume that, being who his parents were, Neville is also okay? Is it safe or not?_

Harry looked up from the note and found Valore now talking to Neville, who was still avoiding any unnecessary conversation, about the different houses of Hogwarts. Neville was not a member but he knew about the Order completely. However, Luna's father was the owner of The Quibbler, a magazine that was more ridiculous than news. Remus Lupin had commented over holiday that even though Luna was involved in the fiasco at the Ministry of Magic a few years back, there was no way Mr. Lovegood would be allowed to know Order specifics. That, unfortunately, included Luna as well.

"I've never been to a school that was divided into such different groups," Valore admitted. "I hope I'm in Gryffindor."

"And then there's Slytherin, which you don't want," Neville advised.

"I've been told about that house. Voldemort was from Slytherin," she covertly stated and ignored Neville's flinch at Valore's blatant use of the Dark Lord's forbidden name. "So who's the resident prat around here? There's always at least one in every school."

"Well," Neville answered quietly, "Professor Snape. He bullys everyone except Slytherins." That was putting it mildly where Neville was concerned and he thanked his poor OWL testing again that he would not be required to take Potions again.

Harry issued a humourless chuckle, "Doesn't really matter how good you are either. Hermione's brilliant and he hates her."

"And Malfoy," Neville added.

"Oh yeah, and Malfoy's always a lovely one to have to deal with."

"Malfoy?!" Valore stood up fast, lost her balance when the train rocked, and fell with a plop back into her seat. "Malfoy's _here_?!" She looked to Harry for confirmation. He nodded and saw what he thought to be panic crossing her eyes.

"You know Malfoy?" Neville asked nervously.

Realizing that she now had all surprised eyes focused on her overreaction to a simple comment, she relaxed and sat back in her seat as if nothing had happened. Startled by Valore's polar reactions, Neville and Harry could only stare blankly at her profile and wait to see what she'd do next. Luna had returned to her reading.

"Yeah, I've heard of him," she answered almost casually. "A wizard can't have that much gold and not ever hear of him." She slipped a hand into her muggle jeans pocket and pulled out a package of chewing gum. Carefully, she chose a particularly appetizing looking piece and folded it into her mouth.

Neville mentally slapped himself, _That's what I forgot! My box of wrappers! Idiot—idiot—_ He always brought the small box of gum wrappers with him to school. It was his way of keeping his mother close.

Valore had noticed Neville eyeing her hands which held the package of gum and offered him a piece, promptly turning Neville's face a bright red at having been caught staring. Valore could only shrug when he turned down her outstretched hand and the blue and yellow waxy papering that held her brand of chewing gum.

"Shouldn't Ron and Hermione be here by now, Harry," Valore asked.

"Well, yeah," Harry admitted, "but-"

"I would _really_ like to meet them," she stood and stepped outside the compartment. With a toothy smile she invited Harry to come and find them for her.

He wasn't really wanting to find them, seeing as they were probably off in a broom cupboard together, but she had insisted. Harry led the way down the narrow corridor with Valore close in tow even though he hadn't the faintest idea where Ron and Hermione could be. They soon passed a small storage cupboard door that Valore seemed to find quite interesting as she'd stopped and looked up and down the hall. When she seemed to be satisfied she grabbed Harry by his elbow and, without the slightest bit of warning, dragged him inside and quickly closed the door behind them. Inside was, of course, dark where the only light available came from the three slotted air vents in the top half of the door. It was a tight fit but they both managed to fit inside. It reminded Harry of his old cupboard at the Dursley's, though Valore's perfume made it smell a bit better than the Dursley's…and there certainly hadn't been a girl in his cupboard with him at the time…

"Thanks for doing this for me," she whispered into the darkness.

"Have you gone mad?! What are you doing?" he hissed back at her. "We can't be in here, we'll get caught!"

He made to push the latch open, but Valore quickly pulled back his arm and batted his hands away in attempt to delay his escape, "Please, Harry, it's not like that, don't leave."

Harry, eyes now adjusted to the darkness, retracted his arm from her grasp, "What then? No, wait-me first. How do you know about the Order and how do you know about my mum's eyes."

"Look, I was told you'd be on the train. My uncle possesses a picture of Lily and James Potter and Dumbledore raved about how you look so much like them. Hello? Eyes just like Lily Evans? It wasn't really that hard." Even in the darkness, she could tell his green eyes had become saucers at her unexpected words.

Several long and silent moments passed before Harry spoke again. He wasn't really sure what he was supposed to say so instead, he stumbled over his words, "Pictures? How did you—why do you know—you're uncle?" It was an unintelligent question but it seemed to get the point across because Valore smiled.

"Yes, Harry. There is a world outside of Hogwarts and Great Britain and my American uncle has a picture of your family. They were pretty famous, you know, not just at Hogwarts."

"Is that how you knew Neville as well, then? Dumbledore told you about him?"

Her smile evaporated, "We don't have time for details. I've been out of the British loop for a while, Harry, and I'm not up to date on the latest news. I need to know about Malfoy. I snatched up a copy of The Quibbler from one of the girls at my old school. Is it true about what happened at your Ministry of Magic? About the Death Eaters, and Fudge getting sacked?"

"Yeah," he answered slowly, still trying to work out in his head why she would care, "Lucius Malfoy's locked up in Azkaban and Rufus Scrimgeour is the new minister."

"Good, I know the reputation of The Quibbler. They tend to just make up random crap. But Azkaban won't hold him long, I think you know that…but then what's this about Malfoy being _here_?"

"That's his son, Draco. It's Lucius Malfoy that's in Azkaban."

"Oh...well, if that doesn't just bugger all. I thought for sure he'd be at Durmstrang and I wouldn't have to deal with him. That'll change things—is he smart?"

"What?" He'd been distracted by her perfume again.

"Is Draco Malfoy smart or is he dumb as a brick?"

"Er, smart? Big sodding prat but he's not an idiot. Why?"

Harry could tell she was thinking aloud instead of answering his question. She mumbled here and there, something about desserts and a fire. He was about to interrupt her when she finally clapped her hands together and exclaimed quietly, "Oh how deliciously convenient! Okay, look, I'm not sure who I can trust here, Harry, and I know you and the Longbottoms are about as anti-Voldemort as I can get. I need to get on the good side of Draco Malfoy, and I need you to help me. I can't really tell you details right now but you can't tell anybody about this."

"You're cracked! Are you saying you want to be his friend? You've never met him, Valore. He's not a good person."

"Please, Harry. You're right, I only know him by name but I need to get close to Draco Malfoy. I can't do it alone, I need your help."

He was going to ask her what she meant by that when she clasped a hand over his opened mouth and told him to hush. Together, they listened in thick silence to what had drawn her attention. Her hands smelled pleasant...like soap. Harry heard it now as well, voices in the hallway but as the voices came closer they became clearer. He pulled Valore's hand from his mouth, "That's Ron and Hermione. C'mon," he grabbed her wrist and pulled her out with him.

However, as she had not been expecting his rash decision to expose them, Valore had tried to hold them back inside the small cupboard causing Harry to stumble over his own feet and crash to the floor, dragging Valore down with him.

They must have made quite a sight: The famous Harry Potter falling out of a cupboard with a strange girl, and now Harry landing flat on his face and the girl right on top of him. Any other time, he might have found this quite humourous-but all the humour was lost as he stared ahead of him at the pair of worn out brown leather shoes and a pair of brightly polished Mary Janes that could only belong to Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger.

Ron immediately stopped walking and his jaw dropped mid-sentence as he watched Harry tumble out of a storage cupboard with a girl he did not know and land straight at his feet.

Hermione, who had been walking behind Ron before bumping into him from the sudden stop, looked around his body toward the obstruction that had caught Ron's attention. "Harry?!" her jaw had also fallen open and her brown eyes were wide with shock. Crookshanks, Hermione's fuzzy orange cat, fell out of her now limp arms and landed upright beside Harry's head and growled his displeasure at having been dropped. "Harry, what in the name of Merlin are you doing?!" she screeched.

"It's not what it looks like, guys," Harry said hastily while trying to help Valore to stand.

"Hi, Harry!" a girl approached from behind him. "You wanted to get together before we arrived at Hogwarts."

"Oh. Hiya, Keira." Harry grinned and awkwardly ran a hand through his already messy hair, "Yeah, how 'bout later? Right now's not a really good time."

Keira flashed her bright smile and tossed her long flowing hair out of her eyes, "Sure, I'm a few cars down when you've got time," and turned to return from whence she came.

Ron, unable to hold it back any longer, laughed loudly as Hermione rolled her eyes and slapped him on the arm, "And what does it look like, exactly? Because it looks like—"

Harry glared back at Ron, "Would you like to tell me all about the 'Prefect Duties' you two run around on?" Hermione's still open mouth snapped shut indignantly. "This is Valore Bloom. Valore, this is Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Valore's on loan to us from America."

"Hiya," Ron nodded politely to Harry's new broom cupboard friend. "We were heading back to the compartment," he braced himself against the wall when the car shifted unexpectedly. "You coming back, Harry? That is, unless we _interrupted_ something."

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron's curious grin and Hermione's motherly frown, refusing them a satisfying answer. He was about to ignore the comments that Ron was cooking up and agree to head back to the compartment but before they could start off Harry felt himself being rudely pushed forward and sideways out of the path of whomever was making their way through the narrow hallway from behind them.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry heard Ron say from behind him.

"Nothing that concerns you," Draco Malfoy sneered back just as Vincent Crabbe, one of Malfoy's overly large thugs, purposely smooshed Harry's face into one of the windows as he forced his way past him. As he passed through the now clear path created by Crabbe, Malfoy made it a point to bully both Ron and Harry, shoving them hard enough that their backs bumped against the wall and snickered at them from over his shoulder.

Harry normally would have retorted something back, but he heard Valore's quiet whisper from behind him, "Malfoy?" She had somehow been displaced during the corridor shuffle and was now at the very back of their group instead of right behind Harry.

She quickly and ungracefully scrambled past Ron and Hermione, who didn't realise she was trying to pass them, so they found themselves stood on in the process. " _Oomph_ ," Ron grunted out as Valore's elbow accidentally landed in his stomach.

When she finally managed to push past Harry, "Draco Malfoy?" she asked in a soft and slow singsong voice that was not her own.

Malfoy stopped and turned on his heel at his name spoken by somebody he did not know. "And you are?" he asked coldly.

Her reply only hesitated for a second, but in that second Harry saw her demeanor change completely. Her face relaxed and her movements became more fluid as if she were the essence of bored confidence…uncannily mimicking Malfoy.

"Valore Bloom," she answered after that moment's hesitation. It wasn't until it was too late that Harry realised she might have plans to carry out what she'd been rattling on about in the cupboard. "I've been looking forward to meeting you."

Ron nudged Harry hard in the ribs with his elbow and was about to speak up but Harry flashed both him and Hermione a warning glance that quieted them both. Hermione, instead, rubbed the spot on her foot where she had been stood on and shot sinister glares toward Valore.

"Have you?" Malfoy asked, his pale eyes narrowed. "And why is that?"

"I've heard a lot about you, Mr. Malfoy. I'm glad to have finally run into you, I hadn't thought it would be this easy," she offered him her hand.

This flattery was not lost on him and he stepped closer to take her outstretched hand in his own. "And what, exactly, have you heard?"

Valore laughed lightly, "I think we can talk about that more when we're alone." She made her eyes flicker in the direction behind her, indicating the small group that was watching them with utter horror.

"That can be arranged," he grinned lewdly at her. "I think you'll find me two cars down and we can continue getting more acquainted."

"I look forward to it," she smiled toothily and as he and Crabbe turned to continue on their way, she lost her smile and screwed up her nose in disgust. "Ew, he touched me! _Malfoy germs!_ Now I feel dirty," she feverishly wiped her hand on her muggle jeans. Harry noticed that her voice had changed back to its normal tones and her nature became less fluid…the version of Valore he'd originally been introduced to had returned just as quickly as it had left.

As she came back to stand beside Harry again she realised they were all staring at her with a mixture of confusion and what might be described as spiteful revulsion. "What?" she asked, shrugging nonchalantly.

* * *

End of Chapter 2. Please leave a review!


	3. Three Potato

Three Potato

 _Men find Mary Sues to be utterly intoxicating._

"Friends with Draco Malfoy, are you?" Hermione asked in more of a flat tone of accusation than a question.

Ron turned to Harry, "Of all the girls you could snog in a storage cupboard, you find the one girl at this school that _likes_ that prat?"

Valore, finished listening to the allegations against her, broke in, "First of all, you just met me and have no right to judge my actions. Second, exactly what makes you think I enjoyed that? I'm going to have to boil my hand in water before I get the slime off! _And third, we were not snogging_ ," she ended in an irritated hiss.

This seemed to baffle Ron and he looked to Hermione for help, who seemed just as mystified herself.

Valore lowered her voice, "Look, I can't talk here and I can't very well stuff you all in that closet so we're going to drop the subject for now. I'm going to go down there and in about twenty minutes I want you," she pointed a finger at Harry, "to make an excuse to leave, drag Ron and Neville with you, and come to find me. Play along with me, Harry. I need you're help-you remember what I said before?"

Harry, though not entirely clear on what was transpiring, nodded and Hermione transferred her withering glare from Valore to him.

"Good." She started down the hallway but stopped and turned back again, "By the way, whatever you do, don't hit Malfoy." She didn't wait for affirmation and disappeared down the hallway in the direction Malfoy had gone.

Hermione rounded on Harry, "What was that all about?"

"Not really sure," he answered honestly.

"Really, Harry," Hermione said, clearly disturbed by the whole incident, "taking up with a girl like that."

"Seriously, it wasn't what you think! I wasn't 'taking up' with her!" Harry checked the time on his wristwatch.

"You're not actually going through with this!" Hermione screeched. "What does she want you to do—why does she need Ron and Neville?"

"I think," Harry fought for an answer, "Some strange girl shows up from _America_ and wants us to do stuff..."

"Because _that_ makes a load of sense," Hermione used her toe-tapping tone.

Harry rolled his eyes incredulously, "She knew things…things she shouldn't have and I want to find out how."

"Things?" Ron supplied. "What things?"

"She knows about the Order for one," Harry responded with a shrug of his shoulders, conveniently avoiding the fact that she also seemed to know more about his parents than one would expect.

"The Order?" Hermione frowned, concern evident. "How would an American know about the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Dumbledore must have told her. She said she'd talked to him."

"Hermione's right," Ron stuck up for his girlfriend, "anyone who lets Draco Malfoy touch her hand should be considered dodgy."

"C'mon," Harry grunted and began walking toward their compartment, "let's go sit back down. This is gonna be a long train ride."

* * *

Eighteen minutes of strained conversation and frequent wristwatch checking slowly ticked by before Neville finally brought up the subject of the missing Valore. "Been in the loo an awfully long time, hasn't she?"

"You're right, Neville," Harry said seizing the opportunity, "maybe we should go look for her."

This statement wasn't quite what Neville had expected to hear. He really didn't know what he had _expected,_ to be honest, but it certainly hadn't been that. "In the loo?"

"Yes, maybe we should," Ron nodded his head with a strange grin. "She could have fallen in." Hermione let out a snort of laughter that she didn't bother trying to cover up.

"C'mon, Neville," Harry demanded tugging on Neville's sleeve.

"But we can't! We're boys, we can't go into the girls lavatory! Make Luna go. Or Hermione!"

"Neville brought it up," Ron said looking pointedly at Hermione, who didn't need any prompting to stay out of the discussion, "Neville can help." He took Trevor from Neville's hands and sat the toad on Luna's propped up knee while Harry grabbed Neville by the sleeve of his knitted jumper and pulled him out the door.

"Oi!" Neville cried out. "No—the loo's the other way!"

* * *

Valore, in the meantime, had been walking along in the direction Malfoy had left; so far she had been unsuccessful in locating him. She had found a group of younger students playing a game of Exploding Snap, a compartment full of second year girls, a gaggle of first year girls giggling maniacly, and a boy levitating after eating a Fizzing Whizbee. It wasn't until two cars down from where they had met that she finally found the object of her search sitting with two other boys who resembled apes more than humans—one of which had been the one to shove her into the train's wall. As Valore watched through the compartment window, they seemed to be deep in hushed conversation and the two gorillas laughed stupidly at something Malfoy had said. Knowing this to be her only available moment, Valore took a deep breath and slid the door open without bothering to knock.

Malfoy turned at the sound. He gave his two goons a look that plainly told Valore he had already instructed them to leave if she came to call. She watched them leave in single file down the narrow hallway (which they completely filled shoulder to shoulder) to make sure they were out of earshot and pulled the door closed and the covers over the windows.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said in a sweet, singsong voice as he stood to greet her. She felt the shivers of annoyance run up her spine as his cold hand took hers and graced it with the presence of his lips.

"Draco, please."

She smiled her sugary smile and repressed the urge to smack him with her now wet hand. "I hope you don't think me too bold to visit you like this."

Malfoy smirked, "I rather like bold."

"I'm glad," she continued to grin stupidly at him, "so do I. Then you won't mind me saying the description of you that was given to me hardly does you justice."

Malfoy's ego flared expectedly. "You're American. You've heard of me overseas then?" he asked, motioning for her to sit beside him, which she accepted. "How is that?"

"I wasn't exaggerating when I said I'd heard of you. Your father's reputation does extend outside of Europe." She saw a curious suspicion cross his pale eyes at the mention of Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy's father and currently locked up in Azkaban for being a known Death Eater. "I'll be honest in saying I have ulterior motives for wanting to meet you, Draco." She fingered the knot in his forest green and silver striped tie suggestively, trying to keep his attention focused directly on her instead of whatever suspicions he might be creating. "I want to help you," she gave the knot in his tie a small tug as if to straighten it.

She worried that perhaps she was coming on too strong but the small gesture seemed to have had the effect she was wanting because his eyes had changed from suspicion to another kind of dangerous luster. "Help me?" he asked with a suggestive eyebrow raised. "Are you sure you can help me?"

Valore chuckled lightly under her breath. "I try anything at least once…twice if I liked it," she replied and mocked him with her own eyebrow gesture.

"And how do you plan to _help_ me?" He moved his hand as if to touch her arm but she noticed and stood from her seat, out of reach.

Valore strategically changed her voice to be colder than before, adopting a more confident, business-like manner. "Here's the plan." She rested her back casually against the train's large window. "I get myself sorted into Gryffindor, become friends with Harry Potter and his cronies, and report back to you with anything that I hear. That's it-pretty easy really."

Despite her attempts to distance herself from him while in a cramped train compartment, Malfoy stood and followed her to the window. It was only half a step but it was enough to get him closer than she really wanted. "And if I refuse your offer?"

"Then you miss out on a chance at Potter, Gryffindor, and that idiot Dumbledore." She tried to sneak in as much disgust as she could muster and lazily examined her fingernails with bored interest.

His usual sneer crossed his face upon understanding what she was proposing to do for him. "What's in it for you?"

Her toothy smile returned, "Simply the pleasure of being in your service. I'll be doing this whether or not you want any part of it, just thought you would want in on it. So it would be to your advantage to take it while you can. My only demand is that you tell absolutely no one, of course. Obviously, if _anybody_ found out about me it would defeat the whole purpose."

"And what if Potter does find out?"

"Then I'll be forced to admit I'd been passing along information to you," she carelessly shrugged her shoulders at the consequences of such a mundane thing happening. "Of course, then Gryffindor would no longer be a safe place for me and I might require you to protect me," she grinned through an obviously fake pout.

Valore wondered where everybody was; it seemed they were taking an awfully long time getting to her. "I'm going to have to do some serious damage control for my behaviour in the hallway. They think I'm some sort of head case now for even speaking to you. I was afraid you wouldn't agree to see me because I was with that twit when I met you. But I was so eager to meet you and when I saw you...I wasn't sure if I'd get another chance before we arrived at Hogwarts so I took the opportunity when I had it."

She took a moment to flash him a playful grin. "From what I gathered, you and Harry aren't the best of friends, to say the least, and Slytherins aren't exactly friendly with Gryffindors anyway. You would never have agreed to speak to me after I was already sorted." Valore thought she might be overloading on the complements but Malfoy seemed to suck them up like a dry sponge abandoned in the Mojave. "Now, I'm going to have to make up a story about why I'm in here with you because people are bound to see me leave."

"You don't have to leave, you know," he stepped in close to her, causing Valore to plaster herself as close to the wall as she could possibly get.

"Tempting as that sounds, people might think we're up to something."

He stepped in, closing whatever possible gap there was between them, "Aren't we?"

Valore smiled and cocked her head to one side, her recklessly improvised plan now taking on its full effect, "Nobody but us is supposed to know that." She put her hands to his chest and played with a silver pin engraved with a P that was attached to his robes. She was beginning to lose faith that Harry would be coming and berated herself for thinking for a moment that he really would. "You haven't answered me yet," she tried to look at him as though she could hardly restrain herself from passionately attacking him. "Do we have a deal?"

His unspoken but clear answer came in the form of pressing her against the window with the full weight of his body and she felt his hands on her hips. She didn't like the way his grey eyes searched hers and he was uncomfortably close but it was too late. He was the key and Valore knew she couldn't back down now; she was too involved and the last thing she needed was for her lies to surface themselves. She could feel her breakfast churning threateningly in her stomach but pretended to enjoy his closeness.

He'd begun lowering his mouth inches from hers when she stopped him with a finger to his lips.

She looked around him to the closed compartment door, "Did you hear that?"

"Vht?" he said through her finger.

"I heard something." The sound came again. She heard Harry's voice faintly in the hallway. "It's Potter!" She gratefully pushed him off her and he landed with a plop on the seat below. "Damn it, they've come looking for me!" She paced the small area, pretending to try to invent a good story for her being in Malfoy's compartment.

Ron and Harry's unmistakable voices were indeed coming closer. Malfoy watched her pace the small bit of floor in front of him, shocked at having been shoved aside like a worn shoe and denied his intended pleasure. "Why would Potter think to look for you here? He's not the brightest torch on the wall, you know?"

"No…no, he's smarter than you give him credit for," she absently waggled a finger at him and continued to pace the tiny bit of walking space while he watched her finger with an unnerved amazement as though nobody had ever before dared to correct him in such a dismissive manner. "I've got an idea," she exclaimed brightly and clapped her hands together excitedly. "I'll need your help on this one. Oh, this is going to be _fun_!"

Valore grabbed Malfoy by the hand, pulled him to her, and directed him how to stand.

"YOU LEAVE MY FAMILY OUT OF THIS, MALFOY," she said loudly toward the door. Then in a quick whisper, "Now Draco, you hold onto my wrist like that—there you go—no tighter, you need to leave marks on me— _ouch_ —no, don't let go…Now he's going to think he's saving me from you and then I'll be Potter's newest best friend," she smiled at him as if this was the best fun she'd had in ages.

Then in a loud voice again, "DON'T TOUCH ME! No, Draco, don't let go of me, and act mean like I'd just threatened you. This has to look real or it won't work. I'm going to struggle with you okay? Oh, my wand!"

"Over here," came Harry's muffled voice.

She took her free hand and placed her wand into the hand Malfoy was holding, adding the finishing touch. "Potter likes to play the hero, yeah? Let's make him one for today," she gave Malfoy another sadistic smile and he returned it with one of his own when he finally understood what she was thinking.

She saw their shadowy silhouettes through the window coverings as they gathered by the door. "It's show time," the darkness of her eyes glinted with cruel eagerness.

Valore screwed her up face and produced a set of brimming tears. "I SAID LET GO OF ME," she plead franticly with him and began trying to wrench herself from his grasp but he only tightened his grip, causing her to cry out in pain.

The door flung open and Neville entered first, followed by Harry. Malfoy released her wrist when he was sure they had seen him restraining her and she fell backward, landing hard on the floor. Neville came to pick her up and she was holding her painfully throbbing arm.

"What the hell are you doing to her Malfoy?" Harry demanded, his wand at the ready. He looked at Valore who looked back at him through tear-filled eyes.

"What am _I_ doing? Ask her! She attacked _me_!"

Harry stepped aside when Ron came in with his wand aimed at Malfoy and stood behind Neville.

"I can recognize a Malfoy when I see one, even if it _is_ behind a mask!" Valore's voice wobbled terribly and tears were now successfully streaming freely down her face.

Malfoy took his cue from her and spat, "Be careful, girl, you're lucky you had your hero here to protect you. Of course, you would want to know what happened the last time Potter wanted to be a hero. You might reconsider who you choose as friends."

He'd directed this last statement to Harry who became red with anger. Valore saw Harry's mounting temper, "This isn't over Draco Malfoy!" she attempted to redirect Harry's focus to herself. "You'll pay for what your father did to my family!"

"Your family was filth! They deserved everything they got," he retorted nastily.

Valore angrily lunged at Malfoy but Neville only tightened his grasp on her and Harry noticed the darkness of her eyes had lost all their warmth, replaced with a vicious coldness. Malfoy, in startled reaction, had backed up to the window away from her attempts to tear his skin off with her bare hands. She tried desperately to free herself from Neville's grasp but he held on strong.

Malfoy smirked at her. "You should check into St. Mungo's, Bloom. That's where they keep all the mental cases around here. Isn't that right Longbottom?"

Neville almost dropped her as he made his way toward Malfoy, intending to make him bleed. Malfoy, seeing that he was about to be attacked physically by someone that wasn't pretending to hate him, instinctively backed as far as he could from Neville and held his arms up to his face.

"Neville, no!" Valore grabbed onto his arm and pulled back with all her might. She tried to use her other hand to help restrain him but cried out as pain flooded her bruised wrist. Neville heard her yelp and immediately backed off, unintentionally knocking her into Ron who caught her under the arms.

Ron dragged Valore out by holding under her arms and managed to grab hold of Neville's sleeve. Valore, on her way to being dragged out the door latched onto the back of Harry's shirt and yanked him out with her.

Sticking his head through the now empty doorway, Draco Malfoy watched them leave down the hall, a sobbing Valore let Neville support her along the way until they passed through to the next car. Various other curious heads had appeared from the other compartments to see what all the commotion was. He sneered at them, "Show's over," and slid his own compartment door shut with a bang. He had to admit she was a good actor.

As they entered the next car, Valore promptly sucked in her fake tears and stood up straight. "I thought that went rather well, don't you?" she grinned at Harry. "Obviously, don't say anything to _anybody_ about knowing what's going on and let the rumors start circling. Plenty of people heard our little argument so it should be easy enough. What took you so long anyway?"

"Ran into Crabbe and Goyle," answered Harry. "Valore, you might want to explain before Neville explodes," he jerked a thumb at Neville who was a slight shade of puce.

"Wouldn't mind hearing this myself," Ron grumbled under his breath.

"Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry," she said sincerely and put a hand to his shoulder. "I couldn't tell you what was going on because you would have reacted the wrong way."

Neville was busy staring at Valore and Harry in confusion, "You mean—The loo—You weren't— _You knew_?!"

"Yeah, I kinda knew," Harry said apologetically, "but I swear I didn't know what she had planned."

"Mind telling us why Malfoy had his hands on you and why we couldn't hit him for it," Ron demanded, his ears gone bright scarlet.

"I'll tell you later—"

"You'll tell us now," insisted Ron.

"Oh fine, but shut up about it would you!" she growled impatiently. "He wasn't really hurting me. I staged the fight between us to make Malfoy think that you thought that you saved me from his evil clutches even though you really weren't."

Ron blinked.

"Well, actually you really were. I don't think I could have stood another moment with that worm without blowing everything. Now, he thinks that you think that I tried to attack him but he doesn't know that you know that I staged the whole thing."

Both Ron and Harry blinked.

"Say that again," Harry challenged.

Valore thought for a second, "I don't think I could if I wanted to."

"That makes no sense," reflected a mystified Ron.

"For Heaven's sake, Ron, I'll draw you a diagram sometime, but _after_ we get to Hogwarts. Now not another word about it!"

"No," Harry stepped forward, "we're not done yet. If you wanted to start a fight, why did you say not to hit him?"

Valore sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "Okay, follow me here. What better way could you find to spy on Death Eaters than to be the friend of a Death Eater's son, right? I want Malfoy to think I'm his friend. If Draco Malfoy is anything like what I thought—which he seems to be because he eats up complements like the desert eats rain—he will want what he thinks is most profitable for him. What would be most profitable for him would be the ability to spy on Gryffindor. I made him believe I can be his mole. I am now friends with Draco Malfoy. What would _not_ have been profitable for him would be having my new friends barge in and beat the snot out of him. He would have felt resentment toward me and that wouldn't have been very good. Do you see why I wanted to talk about this _later_?"

Ron's inevitable argument was quashed when the train car door swished open, the sound of metal train wheels crashing on tracks becoming louder and softer with the closing of the door. Valore immediately turned to bury her face into the nearest body, which happened to be Neville's chest, and sobbed violently. Neville, not really knowing what to do, stared down awkwardly at the body that had latched onto him and stiffly put his hands on her back and patted her.

"Keira," Harry managed to tear his eyes off Valore.

"Hi, Harry," but it wasn't Harry she was interested in. "I heard what happened—I was in the next room over," she put a hand to Valore's shoulder. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

Valore nodded into Neville's stomach and wailed, "Draco Malfoy is a _monster_ ," and finished off with a well timed sniffle.

Unable to resist it any longer, Ron growled, "Okay, that's it," and stomped away from the chaos back toward their compartment, "even in her worst moments, Hermione's less cracked than you lot."

"What's up with him?" Keira jerked a disgusted thumb at Ron's departing form.

"He—er—" Harry stammered to find an excuse, "he hates Malfoy too? Hey, Keira, now would be a good time to get with you and the others."

This seemed to be enough to pull her away from Valore's imaginary breakdown because she immediately brightened at his words, "Yeah! Okay, we're right down here," and put her hand on the car door.

"Neville," Harry said before following her out, "you're not going to tell somebody about this, yeah?"

Neville shook his head and looked down at Valore still latched around his middle, "I don't think I could explain this to anybody." Harry smiled apologetically and followed Keira into the next car.

"Sorry 'bout that," Valore uncurled herself from him and meant to straighten out his now wrinkly clothes, "didn't mess you up too bad, did I?"

* * *

Thanks for reading Chapter 3 of Small Potatoes. Hope you're enjoying. Please leave a review.


	4. Four

Four

 _A properly clichéd story needs as many original characters as possible._

"I'm so glad I found you, Harry," Keira smiled brightly over her shoulder at Harry, who was following along behind her. "They've been bugging me all day to meet you."

Harry had found it more than a little odd that Professor Dumbledore had asked Harry to meet him at The Leaky Cauldron just the day before, seeing that the very next day they would set off for the start of term at Hogwarts. He already had all of his school things bought and couldn't fathom what other business needed done. But walking into the busy pub, Harry spotted Dumbledore sitting at a corner table along with a girl, Keira Richardson. She was happily sipping away at a butterbeer and watching an empty fire whiskey glass drop itself into a tub of dirty dishes. When she saw him coming across the room to them she smiled brightly, her light brown eyes sparkled with giddy interest.

Her story, relayed interchangeably between herself and Dumbledore, was an interesting tale. It seemed that right until two days before, she had been raised completely muggle. Then Dumbledore showed up on her doorstep and announced that in just a few days time she would attend a magic school for the first time ever on a completely different continent.

Dumbledore informed him that he had asked Harry to come so that he could show her around Diagon Alley and help her get her own school items in order before school started the next day. However odd this might have sounded to Harry, he went along with it anyway. Not that he really minded, she was attractive in a Hollywood actress sort of way and she was pleasant enough, even if she did talk an awful lot. But even an entire day spent in her company could never have prepared him for what waited beyond the door to the compartment where Keira was leading him.

Stepping through after Keira brought him to an entire compartment full of beautiful girls. Seven girls, to be exact, Keira included. All brunettes of varying shades and hair styles (save for one blonde sitting by the window), all American, all unbelievably attractive, and all smiling wonderfully at _him_. Well, one wasn't smiling exactly (scowling murderously would probably be a more accurate wording) and she wasn't blindingly beautiful for all the dark makeup and hair hiding her face from view.

But the rest…

Harry didn't know if he should feel like the luckiest teenage boy in all the world or to run away screaming. Instead, he nervously ran his hand through his hair, making it even messier than usual.

Keira sat down on the bench seat and patted the empty space of cushion next to her. Trying to smile politely was apparently pointless for all the good his temporarily frazzled nerves were doing. But he sat anyway as they continued to smile expectantly at him.

Never one to lack words, Keira found it her duty to break the awkward silence with introductions, being that meeting each other had been the point of bringing him to her compartment. "This is Madison Driscoe over here," she pointed across Harry's chest to a girl with the straightest and shiniest raven-coloured hair he had ever seen. She smiled brightly at the mention of her name but Harry couldn't help noticing the smile never quite reached her dark eyes. Contemplating further on this girl, however, was not an option for Keira quickly moved on to the row of girls sitting opposite him.

Joey Littleton was the one he had previously noted to be less than enthusiastic about being trapped in a cramped train compartment full of striking beauties. She gave a very small wave as Keira listed her name and then returned to looking out the window that overlooked the narrow train hallway.

Anex Roirrow was next on the roster. Her skin was a wonderful dark tone which set off her honey-coloured eyes and black, curly hair. She reached out and gave Harry a firm handshake and informed him that she had played chaser on her school's quidditch team and hoped she would also get to play on one of the four house teams.

Aiden Ricter was the real beauty out of them all. When Keira pointed her out she smiled at Harry and he felt his stomach drop clear down to his toes. Like the others she was a brunette, but of a light shade that fell past her shoulders in soft curls. Harry thought he could even hear a tinkling of bells when she giggled softly and her bright blue eyes twinkled with a demure and decidedly feminine quality.

Cali Furlow came next but she jumped in with her own introduction instead of waiting for Keira to get to her. "It's, like, _so_ cool to meet you!" she exclaimed. "We've heard so much about this, like, magic stuff and it's so sweet to finally get to be here, you know?" Her short chestnut hair bounced as she shook his hand vigorously and her soft ocean-coloured eyes seemed only barely to contain her excitement.

In the corner by the window sat the only blonde in the compartment, whose name turned out to be Rainbow Starshine. She smile airily, "Isn't the sun shining gloriously today?" Harry looked suspiciously out the large window to the gray clouds that loomed above with a threatening downpour.

He further learned that all but two (Madison and Anex) were not only new to Hogwarts but to magic entirely. Harry couldn't help but feel as though Dumbledore had finally gone completely mental. What could possibly possess the old man to bring these seven witches (five of them untrained no less) into their seventh year at Hogwarts? And every one of them American to boot.

His polite smile began to wobble slightly. His cheeks were hurting from holding his face that way for so long. They hadn't stopped grinning manically since he walked through the door. How could they manage to smile like that the whole time? Harry couldn't help but find this to be just the slightest bit unnerving and he absently sent a hand through his messy hair again. And as interesting as this usually boring trip to Hogwarts had become, between Valore and these girls, the creepiness of it all was wearing down on him and he awkwardly excused himself.

He forced himself to take a deep breath that he hadn't realized he hadn't been taking as he walked back to the train compartment where he belonged. But when he arrived he found that every one of the people inside were sitting in a silence so thick he thought even a sharp knife couldn't have cut it. He observed the venomous glare Hermione was shooting at Valore, who was pretending to not notice that anything was abnormal. Neville was picking imaginary lint from his trousers. Ron was trying to keep the hostility that radiated from Hermione off of himself by sitting quietly.

After an uncomfortably long stillness, Harry tried his best to make pleasant conversation, "So, does anybody know who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will be?"

There was a murmur of, "No's" through the group and the heavy silence returned, the attempt at conversation lost.

"Can I have Trevor back?" Neville quietly asked Luna.

"Trevor?" Valore chuckled.

"My toad," Neville answered somewhat defensively as he took the animal from Luna's hands.

"That's funny," she giggled, "my uncle's name is Trevor."

"You're joking?" Ron joined in on the awkward laughter, "What a coincidence."

The silence Harry had tried to vanquish returned.

"Don't really care who it is," Ron commented suddenly, picking up on what one could only assume to be the original subject of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors.

"Yeah, maybe this one will stick around for a while," Harry said hopefully. "It'd nice to have a professor that was here more than one year," Harry added.

"What d'you mean?" asked Valore curiously.

For a moment they all stared at her as if she belonged in St. Mungo's but then it dawned on Harry, "Sorry, Valore, you wouldn't know. There hasn't been a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts that's lasted more than one year."

"The position is cursed," Ron advised darkly.

It was Hermione's turn to finally join into the conversation, "It is not _cursed_ , Ron. We've gone over this before."

Ron ticked them off on his long fingers, "Counting only professors that have been here since we have: one dead, one sacked, one attacked by Centaurs and gone batty, one was a Moody imposter and had his soul sucked out, one erased his own memory because he was a right pompous git. That's not even counting the ones that came before them! It's cursed, Hermione."

A pallid-faced Valore looked to Harry in horror but he nodded matter-of-factly in agreement and shrugged his shoulders.

"That's horrible!" she cried, her eyes wide.

"All but one deserved what they got," said Ron, trying to reassure her, "they were all a bit batty to begin with."

This last bit of information didn't seem to make Valore feel any better and she sat in silence for nearly an hour, staring at nothing through the window that looked out to the hallway.

* * *

Several hours later, Harry stood in the coldness of the growing darkness with Hedwig's cage in his arms and his large trunk on the ground beside him. He took a deep breath, drank in the chilly air, and despite the cold he felt the warmth of familiarity wash over him. Hogwarts castle stood as a distant, dark silhouette against the fading sunlight and a dense layer of fog was already beginning to settle at his feet. He shifted his weight and watched the white cloud swirl around his legs like a monotone kaleidoscope.

Harry wrapped his cloak around himself a bit tighter as he stood leaning against the wall of the Hogsmeade train station in wait for Ron and Hermione, who were currently attending to their prefect obligations of directing the chaos of students to where they belonged. First years were to join Hagrid in a traditional journey across the large lake and take them into Hogwarts castle; everyone else was to unload their own belongings so they could set off toward Hogwarts in the carriages that were hitched up with thestrals and waiting nearby.

"Firs' years this way!" came the familiar gruff call from Hagrid, who was a good thirty meters away and yelling above the bustle of the crowded train station. "Firs' years! All righ' Harry?"

Harry waved back but his vision was soon blocked by a large group of sixth years who had gathered around their friend's new fire salamander.

"Y' all 'ere? Firs' years! Don' be shy, I won' hurt ya. C'on, you too, Emmy, over 'ere!" Harry heard Hagrid shout without direction from behind the now screaming sixth years as one of them began sprouting smoke from her blonde hair; the fire salamander apparently had sneezed. "Firs' years this way!"

Harry looked over to one of the nearby train cars where Hermione was pushing a terrified group of first years toward Hagrid while Ron looked completely uninterested in something a fourth year was saying to him.

"Hermione said to go on up without them," Neville dragged along his own large trunk and dropping it beside Harry's, "they're going to be here until everybody else is off. Do you know where Valore's got to?" he looked around at the wave of students filling what was left of the carriages.

"Probably somewhere with Malfoy," Harry grunted in a strained tone. "Did she say anything to you after I left with Keira Richardson?"

Neville played with the fog that engulfed his feet. He found a loose stone on the ground and picked at it with the toe of his shoe. "No, not really," he answered vaguely. "Harry," he began awkwardly, "have you ever had déjà vu?"

"Nah, can't say as I have, why?"

Neville picked up his trunk, "Nevermind…it's ridiculous. We'd better get going. Don't want to miss the carriages and have to walk all the way up." Seeing Hermione and Ron were still directing traffic by the train, Harry agreed with the suggestion.

All second years and older of all four houses—Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin—had gathered in the Great Hall, each house at their own large table that filled the length of the large hall. Harry and Neville had waited in the main entry until Ron and Hermione arrived, and since they were the last to sit at the Gryffindor table they were at the end usually left open for the first years that would join their house. Ron stared impatiently at the empty plate in front of him and Hermione expectedly sat beside him while Harry sat next to Neville on the opposite side. Ginny, however, chose to sit with her friends, who were farther toward the other end of the table.

Harry's stomach had just begun to growl louder than before when he spotted Hagrid finally taking his regular seat at the head table, which meant the first years had safely arrived. He nudged Ron in the ribs, who had apparently already spotted Hagrid and looked thankful that his pleasure-deprived stomach would soon be satisfied. And as it was now the unceremonious tradition, Harry looked across the head table for a foreign face that would tell him who would fill the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

But before he could get a clear view of the adults sitting at the front table, the large double doors flew open and Professor McGonagall led the way carrying a three-legged stool and a long scroll of parchment past the four tables. About twenty-five terrified looking first years and eight much-older-than-first-year girls that towered over the small children were following her. Harry had to laugh at the odd sight. He knew Valore was not as tall as Hermione and the shortest one of the girls, but even she still managed to be double the size of the tallest first year and Harry wondered if he'd ever really been that small when he first arrived at Hogwarts. The crowd at the tables began talking amongst themselves, most likely wondering who the older girls amid the first years could possibly be as their stares and fingers were all pointed in the direction of Valore and the other girls.

They were, however, oblivious to the stares and comments as they looked over every inch of the Great Hall, amazed at the castle. Keira's eyes found the bewitched ceiling, watching it with the same awe that Harry had displayed the first time he had seen it.

The sorting hat continued to sing its song and McGonagall began calling out the names in alphabetical order; one girl went to Ravenclaw and another went to Slytherin, each being greeted with noise and cheers from their respective houses. When she came to Valore Bloom, both Harry and Neville looked to the Slytherin table and saw Malfoy intently watching her climb the steps and put on the hat. Crabbe and Goyle did not seem to share in the secret because they were busy looking off into space, as was their usual custom when something required attention.

The ancient hat upon Valore's head was silent for quite a long while when it suddenly exclaimed, "GRYFFINDOR!" The Gryffindor students clapped and cheered politely, but were clearly puzzled why there was a strange seventh year being sorted at all. Harry tried his best to pay attention to the situation and saw Draco Malfoy smirking silently and watching Valore's every move as she took the empty seat beside Neville.

Madison Driscoe, SLYTHERIN! Rainbow Starshine, HUFFLEPUFF! By the end of the sorting, Gryffindor had gained seven new first years along with Anex Roirrow, Joey Littleton (grimly scowling the whole time), and Keira Richardson. Aiden Ricter (much to Harry's strange disappointment) went to Ravenclaw along with Cali Furlow.

Professor Dumbledore stood and surveyed the students, his bright blue eyes twinkling with an inner light that, upon first impression, should not belong to a fragile old man. His dark plum robes and matching hat flowed about him majestically, yet the golden moons and stars that decorated his robes hinted at the playfulness that lay beyond the lengthy, white beard and hair. On his long, crooked nose sat a pair of half-moon spectacles.

Simply by standing, this man had turned the head of every chattering student and said in a loud, clear voice, "Well, what are you waiting for?" and with a grand wave of his hand an impressive feast appeared before their eyes. His efforts were rewarded with a large round of cheering students, clanking spoons and forks on plates, gasps from inexperienced newcomers, and happy laughter.

Anex stared wide-eyed at the mass amount of food as though she couldn't decide where to start. Ron was already busy resembling a chipmunk with his cheeks protruding from stuffed in food and Hermione looked at him with disgust as she politely cut her meat into tiny bite-sized pieces with a knife and fork. Harry, however, had lost patience with politeness, given up on the knife, and picked up his own slab of dead animal with both hands (much to the disapproval of Hermione) and was happily chewing away.

Keira sniffed warily at her pumpkin juice. "What is this stuff?" she asked Neville. He answered but she continued to stare at the amber-colured liquid inside, deciding whether or not to take the risk. Eventually she took a small sip and her face contorted horribly. "Isn't there anything else?"

Harry looked at her, puzzled and took a long swallow of his own pumpkin juice. It tasted normal to him. Pumpkin juice was really the only thing anybody ever drank at Hogwarts. Even Valore and Anex seemed to be enjoying it. But he passed her a nearby pitcher of water anyway.

After they were all stuffed full to the point of exploding, their plates magically cleared spotless to their original golden luster. Dumbledore stood again, this time to make his customary speech, "Now that you are all drowsy and are no longer willing to listen to what I have to say, I must insist that you stay a moment longer. First years, as well as certain other students who should know by now, need to understand the Forbidden Forest is off limits to _all_ students. I am afraid that with the added dangers created by the recent uproar at the ministry (along with the other hazards that have always been there and previously ignored), should you find yourself wandering into the forest, I would find it highly probable that you will not be leaving with the same state of health as when you went in. For your own safety, you must adhere to this.

"Finally, I would like to announce that we have a new addition to the teaching staff this year; Trevor Bloom has graciously accepted the open position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

Fighting the sleepy inclination to not care, there was a weak round of applause as a man that Harry had forgotten to be looking for stood from the far right end of the head table to make himself known. He looked rather young, his mid-twenties maybe, with dark, shoulder length hair pulled back in a low ponytail, and skin that had tanned golden from the summer sun. The man smiled, nodded to Dumbledore politely, and sat back down, but not before the Great Hall quickly filled once again with chatter and giggles as they all gained a full view of the man, the girls doing most of the giggling.

Dumbledore finished his welcome speech and Hermione pulled Ron along to gather up the first years. Harry and Neville led Valore, Anex, and Keira to the Gryffindor Tower, showing them the shortcuts that they knew.

Harry was highly amused; Anex could not take her eyes off the castle, trying to look at everything all at once. The decorative armour that stood along the walls, the mass amount of paintings, and the fiery torches that hung along the walls to light their way. Keira and Anex found the secret passages quite exciting (Anex described it as being in a real life gothic horror novel) and it dawned on Harry that he never really thought about such things anymore. Secret passageways and ancient castles had become second nature to him.

By taking the shortcuts instead of the main corridors, they arrived at the painting of The Fat Lady before anybody else and quickly realized they had forgotten to ask what the new password would be. While waiting, Valore had struck up a very pleasant conversation with the woman in the painting about the history of Hogwarts and before long, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown came around the corner. Parvati's large, brown eyes immediately found Valore as she approached. "You're the new girl?" she asked Valore excitedly, unintentionally ignoring the other girls' newness.

"Everybody's talking about you," Lavender piped in and turned a smiling greeting to Anex and Keira. "Why are you all standing out here? Didn't you get the password from Hermione? _Blatherskite_ ," she stated and the portrait swung open, revealing the hole in the wall that allowed entrance to the Gryffindor Tower. Keira and Anex, thoroughly entertained by this trick, climbed through after Lavender.

When they were inside, Parvati excitedly burst with the question she had obviously been holding in since the train, "Is it true? Did you really try to kill Draco Malfoy?" She had directed this question to Valore but it had also attracted the attention of a group of second years, Dean Thomas, Collin Creevey, and Ginny as they filed in through the portrait hole as well.

Valore appeared uncomfortable with the question but did answer, "Not kill, no. Rumours are always so _exaggerated…I_ was stupid and if Harry, Neville, and Ron hadn't helped me, I don't know what would've happened."

"Nice one!" Lavender said, astonished. "That ignorant git had it coming anyway," and walked away. The group of second years immediately began whispering hurriedly amongst themselves.

"What's a git?" Keira asked curiously.

Ginny interjected, "So it's true what they're saying, that you attacked Malfoy?"

Valore opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the opening of the portrait hole and the sudden flood of heavy-eyed Gryffindors returning to the tower from the Great Hall. Instead of answering the inquiries, Valore took the opportunity of distraction to back away from Ginny's probing questions and slipped into the crowd, unnoticed. When Harry and Ginny both looked away from the portrait hole and back to the spot Valore had occupied only a moment ago, they found merely an empty space.

* * *

"More pumpkin juice?" Keira asked, her nose scrunched in disgust. "What is it with this school?" She sat the pitcher back on the table with a splashy plunk, "Or is it just that all magical people have a thing for pumpkin juice?" Anex, a child of a magical family and sitting across from her, never got a chance to answer. "At my house we drink green tea every morning. Do we have green tea? Or apple juice? My mother makes large breakfasts like this. She always makes so much you just can't eat it all."

Harry hadn't been able to disconnect her from his side since she ambushed him early that morning as he came down from the boy's dormitory. They met Anex and Joey on the way to the Great Hall for breakfast (they had gotten lost on the switching staircases) and Harry found himself once again flanked by two beautiful girls and Joey. Dumbledore had asked him specifically to show these "transfer students" around and help them get along in their new school. However, his restless sleep had left him with a rather grumpy outlook on the morning. He absently ran a hand through his hair and tried to figure his way out of this entourage Dumbledore had unloaded upon him.

"Of course, this is much more food than my mother ever makes. What happens to the food when we don't eat it all, Harry?" Keira asked.

He was still recovering from his uncontrollable impulse to consume everything within reach the night before at the welcome feast. Thinking about the uneaten pile of scones lying innocently on a serving plate before him, and what would happen to them later in the kitchen, made him want to hurl.

His original plan had been to sit with Ginny, but walking into the Hall he'd found her already sitting with Colin Creevey and some others from her year. Anyway, he didn't know how she would react to seeing three other girls attached to him. So, instead, he sat at the first open space he came to at the Gryffindor table, closely followed by his charges.

There was no escape without them noticing.

Classes didn't start for another hour. A vast majority of students also seemed to regret their feast indulgences and were only in the Hall out of habit. Keira, on the other hand, pushed another dainty bite of toast past her full lips. Harry didn't understand how she could eat like that after last night. Where was she putting it all?

He was only really there to get his timetable from Professor McGonagall and to find Ron or Hermione, but they hadn't shown up yet. Perhaps they were off on "prefect duties" again which, over the summer, had become their not-so-secret code for sneaking off to snog. It wasn't a subject he liked to dwell on for long.

Joey pulled out a book from her bag and proceeded to ignore Keira's chatter. Harry managed to see the front cover, a disheveled girl crawling along the ground, but the colours were too dark to really see. He tried to ask her about it but it seemed she was ignoring him as well. She slid a hand through her dark hair and managed to pull it more around her face, as if closing the drapes to the front room window.

"Potter, there you are," a thin, greying woman bustled up to Harry and his entourage. Everything about her was thin. Her body, her lips, her hair, her smile, her supply of patience. The first official day of term would have her even more harried than normal and her thin mouth was stretched tight in a severe grimace.

"Professor McGonagall," Harry greeted her pleasantly.

She evaluated him from above through wire-framed glasses and managed an almost undetectable smile. She projected her glare onto the girls surrounding Harry, "I have your timetables. Roirrow, Littleton, Richardson, Bloom," and handed over a small slip of parchment to each as named. She looked around at the four students and realised she was one short. "Where's Bloom?"

"Valore?" Keira asked after swallowing what used to be a dainty bite of apple.

"Sacked out on the couch downstairs last I saw," Anex answered. "Rough night, I guess."

"Nightmares," Joey's small voice supplied, "are our windows to an unbridled potential," as she continued to hang her head over the pages of her book. It had been the first time she'd spoken in front of Harry. Possibly a first for Keira and Anex as well, judging by how their attention snapped to her. She either conveniently ignored the odd looks she had attracted from the group around her, or she simply didn't care and didn't bother to explain her statement.

"Okay," Anex searched for a way to evade the awkward moment, "yeah, Professor, I could give it to her when she comes down."

McGonagall shuffled around the papers in her hands, "No, thank you, Miss Roirrow. Your class will be starting soon; you'd best be getting off to that. However, Potter, yours and Bloom's first parts of the morning are the same. Find her," she handed over two slips of parchment, "and see to it she gets her timetable. I still need to find your other friends. Have you seen-oh, there's one of them." McGonagall bustled her way over to the Slytherin table to ambush Madison Driscoe.

"Oh look," Keira was contorting her neck around to see everybody's timetables, "we all have History of Magic together. That'll be interesting, won't it?"

Farther down the table Harry saw Ginny and Colin Creevey stand and head in his direction. As she passed him, he tried to catch her eye with a look that was, hopefully, pitiful enough to effectively convey a desperate desire for her to make an excuse to pull him away.

Colin gave an excited, "Hiya, Harry!" He waved with one hand while holding his camera in the other. Ginny passed him, not with an invitation to escape with her, but with a lopsided grin of sardonic curiosity. He cursed her sense of sadistic humour and watched the back of her ginger head leave him behind.

* * *

A/N : Not a whole lot of action, I know. Lots of setup was needed. Please leave a review anyway.


	5. Five Potato

Five Potato

 _References to your other stories should be made often. After all the work you put into those other characters and plots, they have now become canon to your fanon._

* * *

Harry had seen to it that Keira, Anex, and Joey were safely delivered to their Care of Magical Creatures class outside near the greenhouses. He did not stay with them, much to Keira's disappointment, because he had flat-out refused to have that class added to his final year at school. He had had quite enough of learning the proper procedure to cleaning up the dung of animals that could burn, poison, insult, stab, or seriously maim him in some unnatural way.

What Harry found odd was that, according to his own timetable, along with Care of Magical Creatures, McGonagall had neglected to sign him up for hardly any courses at all. He had the requisite Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Charms, and Transfiguration... Thankfully, McGonagall had the sense to not bother assigning him Potions again. But she had signed him up for only two other courses. His whole week was nearly blank.

Ron would collapse in a jealous spasm when he saw Harry's schedule devoted to giving him as much free time as possible. And Hermione would tut-tut her displeasure and lecture Harry for not being ambitious enough. He would never hear the end of it. There had to have been a mistake, Harry reasoned. McGonagall had simply been busy fitting in Dumbledore's "transfer students" at the last minute and his schedule was misprinted. He felt a little better at this forcefully accepted decision and stuffed the parchment back into the pocket of his robes as he climbed through the portrait hole to the Gryffindor common room.

Harry had been sent on a mission to deliver Valore's timetable and Anex said the last place she saw her was on the couch in front if the large fireplace so their tower had been his first destination. But with everyone off to class the common room was void of humans and the previously mentioned comfy couch, now empty, looked like it needed him.

He supposed she might be up in her dorm but there was no way to confirm it. The staircase to the girls' side did not accept boys. Harry had tried it once his first year, looking for Hermione, and nearly broke his neck. He no longer went anywhere near those bloody stairs. He had watched through the years as other hormonally enraged boys tried it but, as far as known to Harry, no male had yet managed to violate the sanctity of the female lair. Last year the event known as The Great Knicker Nicking had ended with several seventh year boys in hospital as retribution for their attempted attack on Pants Privacy.

No, if she was up there, she would come down eventually. Or he would just sit there and wait for time to pass until he had to leave for Ancient Studies.

Bored, Harry sighed dramatically.

With his loads of free time.

He used a spell to inscribe Harry Wuz Here in the grey and white ashes piled up in the long dead fireplace.

"Not off to a good start, yeah?" a female's voice called out from behind him. "How late am I?"

Harry looked back over his shoulder to see Valore descending the cursed staircase, her curly hair still damp from the poorly timed shower. "You're not, actually, but you missed breakfast." He stretched over the timetable McGonagall had given him, "We've got free time right now."

She thanked him and blinked hard to focus on the small parchment and thin writing. "History of Magic? Seriously? Damn it, McGonagall, haven't I had enough?"

"Apparently it's a required course this year." She grumbled her dislike of that answer. "Wake up late?" Harry mused in what he hoped sounded like a casual inquiry.

"Yeah, well," she shrugged and dropped into the adjacent wingback armchair, "late night, new place." She pulled over her rucksack and stuffed the scrap of parchment in the front pocket.

"It was hinted that you'd been having nightmares," Harry said conversationally. She snapped the zipper closed and looked up to him with narrowed eyes. "Having trouble adjusting to the new bed?"

"Harry, that really is none of your business, now is it?" her low tone matched her eyes.

"You sort of threw me into your business yesterday, didn't you? I have to know what you're doing, taking up with Malfoy like you are. I wasn't kidding around when I warned you off him; and if he's enough to give you nightmares, you should take that as–"

Valore let out a loud bark of laughter, "You think-" she took a moment to compose herself, "you think Draco Malfoy scares me?" Taking the moment to compose herself had not worked very well. She was still laughing at him. "That little rosebud holds me in the clutches of uncontrollable terror, does he? Draco The Terrible, frightening girls and scouring the country for trouble!"

"You're the one that put me in the middle of this, you know. Am I seriously supposed to forget you made the strangest plan ever to pretend to be best mates?"

She did him the favour of taking a deep breath. "You're not in the middle, Harry," she shook her head at him. "Off to the side maybe, but not the middle. And if you're really not comfortable with that, I can do fine on my own now. The deed's been done; he's let me in."

"Well, that's comforting."

Valore sighed and lounged back in the chair, "What do you want from me, Harry?"

"The truth seems like a splendid start."

"The truth," she chuckled dryly. "What is that anymore? What's up with you two anyway? I mean, I get the whole house rivalry thing but you guys take it to whole 'nother level."

Harry rolled his eyes, "I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair and sat up straighter on the cushy sofa. "He's always been a spoiled prat, rubbed me wrong from the get-go. But his father's a Death Eater and over the last few years, he's been hinting more and more that he will be as well. Probably one already. No good can come from being his friend, Valore."

Valore finally looked straight at him with a somber smile, "Draco will not be the death of me, Harry. He may be a total prick with a big mouth but he's not his father. I am not afraid of him. So, for the love of Merlin, let it go."

"Okay, fine," Harry ran a hand through his hair as she stood to leave. "If not him then what's up with the nightmares?"

"You're like a dog with a bloody steak, aren't you?" she snapped and leaned closer to him. "All right. Somebody around here already has dibs on Madam Pomphrey's entirestock of dreamless sleep potion. Who could that be, I wonder? That particular potion takes forever to brew and she forbade me to make my own. Would you care to tell me all about what follows you around in Sleepyland, Harry Potter? No? Well, me neither. So can we say that we've both been through some absolute, bat-shit crazy hell and leave it be at that?"

She had him there, he admitted, now feeling guilty as she snatched up her bag from the floor and stalked away. He had forgotten Madam Pomphrey agreed to supply him with a large quantity of doses so he didn't have to go back every few weeks to get more. He did not know that meant her entire stock.

One last try to squeeze a grain of truth from her, "Have you even given thought to what will happen if you're found out?"

With one foot already out the hole in the wall, Valore paused. "Yes," she answered after a moment. She looked at him as though she might elaborate but decided to leave him hanging with just that and the portrait closed up the opening behind her.

* * *

Anex looked around the large "Great Hall" and took another bite of her cheese sandwich. She had heard horror stories about British cooking. Black pudding (made with real blood, ew!), haggis, spotted dick (apparently a harmless thing with raisins, but it sounded more like a horrible venereal disease). When she told her friends back home in Chicago she had scored a chance to study abroad, the second thing they did was giggle and gag senselessly over British cuisine.

It was only lunch on the first day but so far everything seemed fairly normal. No steak and kidney pies, no bangers (another horrible venereal disease). Just a cheese sandwich and pumpkin juice.

Looking around the room, half way down the Hufflepuff table Rainbow Starshine dreamily gazed at the blue sky and puffy clouds beyond the enchanted ceiling. Anthony Goldstein, a fellow Hufflepuff sitting nearby, simply stared dreamily at her.

Aiden Ricter at the Ravenclaw table surrounded by a horde of teenage males avidly watching her eat and read. She successfully managed to ignore them as they all gazed wondrously at her ability to chew. The same thing had happened in their Ancient Studies class, only it had been her taking notes. She had said something about needing paper and a dozen boys dived away to their bags and shoved a dozen pieces of parchment at her. Smiling, she took the one from Seamus Finnagan, who beamed with so much pride his skin should have melted off right there in class.

This time it must have been a cookie. Anex counted a mass of fourteen boys climbing over each other, chocolate crumbs flew, shoving ensued. In the end, it was a Ravenclaw boy who was the chosen one, earning him the coveted thanks of Aiden and the death glare from Seamus.

"How does she do that?" Anex asked out loud. "All through that animal class Aiden had boys following her around like little lost puppies."

Keira plopped into the bench across from Anex with Harry Potter's arm wrapped around hers, forcing him to sit too. "Happened all through the train station. Wouldn't mind if she shared a bit."

Joey followed, sitting on Harry's other side, and pulled out the book she had been reading at breakfast.

"Must be heavy on the pheromones or something," Anex grabbed up another sandwich from the pyramid-shaped pile on the plate. "She told me she doesn't do it on purpose, it just happens."

A tall, gangly, dark haired boy in Hufflepuff's house colours sat down on the long bench next to Anex. "Hi, Harry," he paused for a polite smile-nod of his head to the girls surrounding Harry. "Sorry I couldn't come find you earlier, with it being the first day back and all, but I knew you would want to know. Heard back from Arlie a couple of weeks ago and it's been set."

Harry's demeanor improved dramatically, "So she is coming this year then?"

"Yeah, in a few weeks," the boy, she later identified as Justin Finch-Fletchley, nodded vigorously and, if possible, his grin actually grew bigger. "She has to finish up a thing in India, stop off at home for a few days and then head over here. She ordered me to say Hi! and See you soon! with emphasis on the use of her extra punctuations and excessively bold lettering. I'm also supposed to give you a big hug and kiss but I told her she can do that herself when she's here, if you don't mind."

"Hermione will be glad—" Harry's comment was cut off by shrill screams and loud laughter erupting from the Hufflepuff table. Hannah Abbot's long blond hair was producing a thin stream of smoke. She had put it out easily enough but the scream came when Ernie Macmillan overreacted and unloaded a pitcher of pumpkin juice over her head anyway. Hannah sat drenched in the cold, sticky liquid, stunned and gasping for air as the laughter immediately followed. Ernie sat next to her, horrified and still holding the empty pitcher over her head as she turned angry eyes up to him. Never taking her eyes from him, she reached for her own cup of juice and proceeded to dump it over his head as an act of cold-hearted revenge. It had taken only two seconds later for them both to join in on the laughter breaking out around them.

"Harvey Jenkins, you know from Ravenclaw," Justin explained, chuckling, "his sister is finishing up her seventh year of school as an intern at St. Mungo's and she smuggled out a fire salamander from the animal injuries ward. It has a cold so it keeps sneezing little bursts all over the place. I've caught fire twice already, which isn't really a surprise, I suppose. Don't tell Arlie though, she'll never let me live it down. She still talks about when I set the library on fire. Anyway, I'll leave you to it, then," he stood to rejoin the rest of his fellow Hufflepuffs and the sick salamander.

"Who's Arlie?" Anex asked after Justin had left.

"She's Justin's girlfriend," Harry answered, grinning at Ernie smoothing down Hannah's sticky hair.

Keira put down the apple she was about to bite, "And she doesn't start the semester with the rest of us?"

Harry shrugged, "She usually has stuff to finish up right at the end of summer holidays and the last I heard of it she was thinking of going to her old school in Los Angeles for seventh year."

Keira bit her apple and looked around the large hall. "There she goes again,"she jerked her head behind her toward Rainbow, who still stared up dreamily at the sky, but was now casually waving her hand around in front of her.

Anex leaned close to Harry, "Watching the wind," she mimicked Rainbow's airy voice. "She's a bit flakey."

"Completely bonkers is more like it," Keira giggled at her joke and played with the green heart-shaped pendant on her necklace.

"Hard to get to know her," Anex poured herself another glass of pumpkin juice. "I've tried but she talks like a fortune cookie."

* * *

Neville watched her curly black hair bounce its way around the corner, out of sight just as he peeked around the adjacent corner by the stairs. He stepped as softly as he could through the dank corridor, keeping close to the wall. The damp stone floor did not take as well to his clompy shoes as he would have liked and he hoped she was far enough ahead that she didn't notice.

He had been headed to lunch when he saw Valore exiting the Great Hall carrying two sandwiches. Abruptly, he decided to follow when she turned toward the stairs leading to the dungeons. Harry once told him that was where the Slytherin House was located. Neville wondered if the other sandwich was for Malfoy.

He quietly clomped down the corridor and peeked around the corner she had turned. She had stopped halfway down the corridor in front of a door and knocked. Whoever she was patiently waiting on took their time answering but, eventually, the door creaked open.

"Hello," Valore said with a bright smile. "Brought lunch," she held out one of the sandwiches. The other was already half gone from eating along the way.

"I already ate," a distinct, definitely un-Malfoyish voice sneered from behind the opened door.

Neville's heart thumped harder at hearing Professor Snape's venomous vocals slither into his presence. He had been expecting Draco Malfoy. He could handle Malfoy. If he or Valore had caught him sneaking down there, he could just say his toad was lost again. It was a viable excuse. It happened all the time.

He could not handle Snape. Since his very first potions class as a first year, Snape scared the piss out of him in a way nobody else could. This was a bad idea.

Valore shrugged, "More for me then," and took an obnoxiously large bite of the other sandwich. "You gonna let me in or what?" she mumbled through her mouthful.

He could feel by proxy Snape's cold, black eyes boring into her. His eyes, like empty black pools of lustful violence, could set Neville to nightmares for days. The malice radiated from him, bounced off her and smothered Neville around the corner. It was a bad idea to have followed her down there. He felt the familiar panic rising but he dared not breathe for fear of being caught hiding. He painted himself against the wall and did his best to pretend he wasn't there. Bad idea. Bad idea!

"If I must," Snape finally drawled and another wave of hate wafted over Neville. The door hinges squealed again as the door opened further.

"Thanks so much, Professor." The door closed behind her.

Neville took a much needed deep breath when the latch clicked in place. His lungs and muscles burned with the effort to anxiously remain silent. The corridor was still deserted, thank goodness. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to find him lurking anywhere near Snape's office.

Unfortunately, immediate danger having passed, he felt a little braver again. He had come down here to see what she was up to, not to chicken out at the first sign of complications. And damn it, he was in Gryffindor. Gryffindors don't turn a soft tail to danger. Quietly clomping the rest of the journey to the door, he pressed his ear to the aged wood.

"You know what?" Valore's muffled voice could still be faintly heard. "If you'd helped the first time I asked, I wouldn't be here now. So don't start..." He smashed his ear harder to the door as if it might help get better reception that way but they had moved further into the room and her voice drifted away.

He listened with his painfully squished ear, hearing only random sounds inside and the throbbing of his own wildly beating pulse. A voice here, a bump there. There was nothing left to discover from this except Neville Longbottom sneaking around where he certainly did not belong.

It was high time he got out of there.

* * *

A/N: Reviews would be awesome. Thanks for reading!


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